My Not-So-Little Problem
by Ebony'Wingz
Summary: "My staring must've made him uncomfortable. I'm weird like that, I guess. Mum, bless her soul, she used to tell me that there was something different about me." Really, it was just a case of faked identity, hidden powers, and perfectly-placed syringes. And honestly, my little problem just became a problem. OC/Bruce Banner. Cover can be seen on my Quotev account: Lycanmagicks.
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer: I only own Violet and any other character you've never heard of. All rights go to Marvel. All characters are works of fiction, and and resemblance to any real people is purely coincidental. _**

***

Music blasted through the speakers, numbing my senses and turning it into a pile of mush. How could anyone bare to listen to this? It was just... noise! I pulled the black hoodie to cover my face and groaned.  
"Darcy!" I called, hands on my ears, pushing and shoving passed sweaty, grinding bodies. I felt a hand grab at my butt and I swatted it away, kicking the faceless guy in the crotch before continuing. "Darcy, god damn it!"  
I finally made it to the front of the stage where my friend was, cracking some 'tunes' and, just generally, killing my ear drums. Yep, Jane owes me a raise. It's official.  
"Hey, Violet!" She yelled, pressing a couple of buttons and spinning a disk around on a platform. "Like what you hear?"  
I smirked. "I'd like _to_ hear, thanks. Now turn it off, Jane wants us in the lab, like, now," I said, searching for a switch to stop all of it. In the end, I gave up and yanked at the plug, forcefully, electric sparks of white and blue bouncing off the ground and nearly setting the curtains on fire in the process. "Oops."  
Groans and yells of protest erupted, and I swear someone tried to hit me with a plastic cup. Oh well, I never liked clubbing anyway. It's just so gross and really unhygienic if you think about it. But let's not get into that.  
"You really are a kill joy sometimes," I heard Darcy mumble, as I dragged her through the back entrance. I really didn't want to be crushed by an angry mob of rowdy, hormone-ized teenagers.  
"I thought you were meant to be twenty eight, not one hundred and eight," she argued.  
I yanked at her arm, nearly dislocating it.  
"Ow!"  
"I'm not old. I'm just more mature than you are."  
She looked up at the sky and twirled us around in circles. "_Mature_, my dear Watson, is overrated. Be free!" She spoke, 'wisely', like a drunk. And she was meant to be the older one.  
I just giggled and slapped her arm. "And you, Sherlock, are drunk. Or at least, high. Now get in the car, I'm driving."  
She just laughed and ran ahead. When I caught up to her, she frowned. "I can't open the door. Doctor Watson! I can't open! the! door!" She grumbled.  
"That's because that's a trolley, and you're attempting to pull it 'open' with your teeth," I said slowly, like I was talking to a child. Actually she was drunk, so technically, I _was_ talking to a child. "Why the hell is there a shopping trolley here? This is a club."  
She jumped into the metal thing on wheels and banged her head on the plastic-covered, metal handle. "YAY! SHOPPING!" She screamed, before unceremoniously, throwing up and passing out.  
It was suddenly eerily quiet without her pointless and stupid yapping.  
"I'm Violet Watson, and this, ladies and gentlemen, is my life," I said, sarcastically, pushing the trolley that was carrying my unconscious friend, towards my blue, mini cooper. "Countlessly healing an Astrophysicist who spends her days chasing gods, trying not to get myself killed in her lab with all those vials and _thingamajigs _everywhere_, _hiding all of Dr Selvig's (my employer) liquor, and pushing drunk friends in trolleys. I just wanted to be a doctor! Is that really too much to ask?!" I yelled, defeated, at the sky.  
I attempted to lift her into the car myself, but just the stench of her breath and clothing made me reel back and gag. Okay, not a good idea.  
_You know what else is not a good idea? Tying her to the trolley and tying the trolley to your car's bumper. That would total-_  
"Yes! That's it! It would totally work!" I said, ignoring my conscience's cries of _Stupid, stupid! Is she trying to get herself arrested?_  
Yeah, wouldn't be the first, definitely not the last. I'm a teenager, _definitely _not the last.  
I popped open the boot and scrummaged through piles of useless items and sharp doctor's training equipment. I mentally added clean up car to my checklist... just like I do every other time I open this bloody boot.  
Nope, still no rope. I'm sure I had some somewhere for emergencies...  
I was set back when I managed to prick the inside of my wrist with a hidden syringe.  
"Crap," I muttered, pressing down a ball of wool onto the bleeding area. The bleeding didn't seem to stop, and the ball of wool didn't seem to be helping much either. If I didn't find a plaster soon-  
"Need a hand?" someone asked behind me, making me jump.  
"Oh my god. You scared me half to death," I exclaimed, turning round abruptly and hitting my head against his chin. "Ouch." I didn't realise he was that close to me. Talk about personal space.  
"Sorry." He rubbed at his chin.  
"No. It's my fault, I was too close," he said.  
I smiled, but started to feel slightly light-headed. "Hey, is that offer still valid? I kinda stabbed myself with a syringe- By accident I swear! I need a plaster, and I just can't find one in this pile of-"  
While I was rambling, he had already reached out into his pocket and softly placed a plaster on my bleeding wrist.  
I looked at him for a second, silent. He was wearing a simple suit, looking more like a professor than anything else. His hair was slightly windswept by the December cold, and when I finally looked into his eyes, they seemed dull, covering-up his actual emotions. He was scared, I noticed. Like at any given moment, he could snap. Snap into what, I don't know, I blinked before I could find out.  
He coughed, trying to get rid of the awkwardness probably. My staring must've made him uncomfortable. I'm weird like that, I guess. Mum, bless her soul, she used to tell me that there was something different about me. That I could see into another's eyes and know their secrets just like that. A snap of a finger and I would know your secrets. Imagine that. No one would be safe. And people wonder why I don't keep eye contact with them for longer than a minute when I talk to them.  
"There you go," he said.  
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Thanks." I blushed and turned my head, my eyes catching sight of the aforementioned missing rope.  
_Great. Where the hell were you when I needed _you_? Stupid thing._  
"It's fine. Need anything else?"  
He was still there? I was sure he would've left by now. Any _sane _person would.  
I gave him a timid look. "If you wouldn't mind...?"  
"No, no, I'm all for it."  
My wrist started to pound, and my blood began to cool, but I ignored it. "Sure? It's going to sound really ridiculous, but it's the only option I have."  
"As long as it involves me not getting hurt, I'm sure I can handle it."  
I motioned to my possibly half-dead friend and told him my 'genius' idea of how to get her back to the lab. With my bleeding wrist no longer a problem, I grabbed the rope and tossed it to him.  
He gave me a questioning look. "You sure this is safe?" He held the rope up. "I mean, she could fall out of the thing," he reasoned.  
"That's for tying her down so she _doesn't _fall off."  
"Maybe we should just try putting her into the car," he suggested, hopefully.  
I cringed. "Trust me, I've tried. She stinks. And plus, she likes it on that Trolley."  
As if she heard her cue, she mumbled some incoherent (and probably unintelligent) sentences, before burping and falling back into unconsciousness.  
"See?" I said, covering my nose with my sleeve. "She loves it. Now tie her up."  
He looked between me and Darcy, and back at the rope. "That doesn't sound disturbing at all." He chuckled under his breath, its low and smooth sound giving off sensual undertones, sending shivers up my spine.  
Oh god, I'm so desperate. Not that he wasn't cute! I mean he's nice and all, but I just met him and-  
"Are you okay?" I hear him ask me.  
I jerked at the sudden contact his palm made with my shoulder. He quickly let go, awkwardly putting his arm behind him, realising contact made me uncomfortable.  
"Erm, yeah. Fine, just... feeling a little... woozy." I sat down on the bumper and rubbed my head.  
"Here." He handed me the ropes. "Put it back. I'll Drive you back to- Where did you need to go again?"  
Where _did _I need to go? "My friend's lab. It's not far from here, about a half a mile away. Jane F... Foster. You know her?" I asked, hopefully. If he knew her, it would make this so much easier.  
I didn't want to cause him so much hassle, but with my wrist feeling like it could explode at any given moment, and a drunk friend sleeping in a shopping trolley, I don't know if we'd even be able to make it back to Jane without his help.  
He smiled at me. "I know who she is, yes. The famous Jane Foster. I've heard so much about her. A brilliant woman," he praised.  
"Yeah... well, she's... taken. Sorry, bu...ddy." I don't know why, but for some reason his praise made me jealous. Jane was one of my best friends and what he said about her was completely true. She was a brilliant woman. I had no reason to be jealous. But I was.  
He blushed, something I've rarely seen a man do before. "I know. Thor Odinson is a lucky man- god- whatever."  
I watched him lift Darcy into his truck like she weighed nothing, and smelt like daisies.  
He came back to get me. "Can you stand up?"  
I tried, trust me, I really did, but my muscles felt numb, lifeless. "No," I admitted, my jaw feeling slack. "I'm so sorry, I can't."  
"Would you stop apologising? It's fine," he said.  
"Sorry." I blushed. "Right, no apologising, sorry, I forgot."  
He laughed.  
"Shit. Sorry, again. You know what, I'll shut up now."  
"Here, put your arms around my neck. Can you move them?"  
I shook my head. Now that he mentioned it, I couldn't feel my arms either. They too were numb. Like a couple hundred of ice blocks had been placed on my body and had been kept there for hours. I didn't like contact, but I guess I had no choice. I'd just have to keep my eyes shut. Eyes. Shut.  
He took my limp body and lifted it slowly, not wanting to cause me discomfort. He was warm, I noticed. So, very warm. I just wanted to snuggle into him but I couldn't move. I was getting colder.  
"Thanks," I slurred, after he had strapped me in.  
"I'll ask a friend to bring your car over." He took out his phone and pressed a button. There was a ring, and a second later someone picked up. "Hey, Tony? I need some help here." There was a muffled voice on the other side and the man laughed again. "No, nothing like that. Just get over here. I need you to drive a car to Miss Foster's lab. _Jane Foster_." He waited another second before replying. "Yeah _that_ one. No, the one in New Mexico. Twenty minutes? Okay, we'll meet you there." And he hung up. "You okay there?"  
"I'm fine," I insisted.  
His smile reflected through the rear view mirror. "What's your name?"  
"I'm... Victoria Watson," I lied, smoothly. "You?"  
He shrugged, the light in his eye glinting with something I couldn't quite pin-point. But then it vanished as quickly as it came, leaving me to wonder if I had seen it at all.  
"Robert. Robert Brunner."  
I managed to nod my head once in his direction. "A Pleasure."  
He started the car. "The pleasure's all mine, Victoria."


	2. Chapter 2

p style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14.3999996185303px; line-height: 24.4799995422363px;"(re-write: 20/09/14)br /br / "Pick up, come on. Pick up, Violet!" Jane yelled at her phone. When it went to voice-mail (for the thirty-first time), Jane glared at her phone displaying Violet's number, 'telepathically' willing her to just answer the damn thing already. br / It had been over three hours and she was begging to get a little antsy. br / Where were they? They should've arrived by now. Surely there couldn't be any traffic at this time. It was eleven fifteen for gods sake! br / "Jane, calm down," Erik soothed. "They must've just gotten lost, taken a wrong turn. I'm sure they are fine."br / He guided her to a chair, but she only successfully managed to sit still for a full four seconds tops. She couldn't keep still when her friends were out, lost and hopeless andem not span style="font-size: 12pt;"picking up/spanstrongspan style="font-size: 12pt;" their/span span style="font-size: 13pt;"damn phones/span/strong/emspan style="font-size: 13pt;"strong! /strong/spanbr / "Something is emwrong/em, Erik," Jane insisted. "Violet is not one to get herself lost."br / "Darcy could be driving." br / She allowed herself to smirk. "emDarcy/em, would be lying in the back seat, passed out and drunk. There's no way Vi would let her anywhere emnear /emthat wheel." br / "Good point." br / Jane got up again, adjusted the length of her skirt, pulled at her sleeves and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. She repeated the process, feeling sick. br / em Up, skirt, sleeves, hair. /embr / Something was emstrongwrong/strong/em!br / She made to grab her phone, but the familiar sound of an upcoming car reached her ears. She and Erik shared a look before she leaped off the chair and ran for the door. The sound was familiar, the car, however, was not. br / The big, four-by-four came slowly to a stop before Jane, and a man (about roughly in his late twenties, early thirties, Jane presumed) jumped out. He walked up to her and jutted out his hand. They shook, Jane giving him a wary look. br / "You must be Miss Foster." br / "Yes, why? Is something wrong? What's happened to them? Is Violet hurt?" she asked, getting all agitated again, peering behind Bruce's shoulder at the car. Banner smiled slightly to himself. So emthat /emwas her / "Please, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down for a moment to let me explain-" br / "Who are you?" She cut off, semi-harshly, the worry for her friend mixing in with her anger; fuelling it. "If you work for SHIELD-"br / The man shook his head hastily and brought her finger (that she had brought up to point at him) back down. "I assure you, I do not work for SHIELD. And my name is Robert Brunner." br / "What do you want?" br / "I'm just here to bring Violet and Darcy back." br / "Give her to Erik. Tell me what happened first," she said, laying down her terms when she noticed the man about to protest. "And then you can help." br / He just nodded and explained everything in a rush, handing 'Victoria's' limp body to a flabbergasted man by the door. He barely acknowledging his former colleague as he ran back to retrieve Darcy and place her in her room (that Jane had directed him to).br /em Give her to Erik, /emhe / /emIt made sense to him now. He just didn't add it all up from when he was on the helicarrier, and why would it? He hadn't kept in contact with the man after all. It had been years. Thor mentioned Selvig being a friend, so it would make sense for Jane and he to have been together when Thor arrived on Earth. br / He gave the man a short nod in recognition and out of politeness when he returned from the room. br / "And you're sure that it was a syringe? Not a scalpel or some scissors...?" Erik had overheard bits of the conversation between the two and started to examine the young girl. br / "She said it was an accident, but didn't know if anything was in it. Or if she did, she didn't specify," Bruce replied. br / Jane softly tapped her friend's cheek. "Vi? Violet, honey, can you hear me?" She whispered, hopefully. br / No response. br / Feeling useless, Bruce asked: "Is there anything I can do?" br / The astrophysicist nodded at a plain white door. "Head through there. If Violet stuffs something in that god forsaken boot of hers, it's for a reason. There might be something on that syringe of hers in one of her notes." br / There was something about the edginess of her voice that put him off. /p  
p style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14.3999996185303px; line-height: 24.4799995422363px;"*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*br / Bruce Banner was many / Just naming a few, he was shy, and very easily intimidated. Oh, and he was also that big, grumpy guy- the Hulk. But what not many people knew, was that he was always overly-curious. Always wanting to know this and that, and examine anything and everything. And, right now, in that small lab in New Mexico, he was fascinated. He really, really was. br / He strolled around, admiring the works and years of research done and accomplished by Jane Foster. Frantic notes and scribbles dictated spontaneous and spur-of-the-moment thoughts, and the hasty, black and white sketches depicted images of far-away planets, different worlds, and a rainbow bridge. The legendary Bifrost, he / The technology here was impressive, too. Almost, Bruce realised, as good as what he found in Stark Tower. He'd have to ask who made them later. br / And here in this room, Violet's room, oh he was very, emvery /emcurious. br / The lab, Bruce found, had a small, worn couch at the back where someone could sleep. And despite the endless amounts of notes and whiteboards filling the room, everything was still ordered in an organised mess sort of /span style="font-size: 1em;" Unlike Jane's lab, Violet's room was very much uninhabitable. /spanbr /span style="font-size: 1em;" A large filing cabinet stood crookedly on its side. Its draws looked to be forcefully pulled open, spewing out paper everywhere, dousing the room in white. The wooden wardrobe was lying on its back and missing a door, it's draws also flung open and clothes thrown onto the floor, the shelves (which were barely hanging on their screws unable to hold the weight of their books), and the printer. The bed had been hurled onto the wall opposite, creating a large dent in the white wall, and feathers from the torn pillows floated /spanabsent-mindedlyspan style="font-size: 1em;" in the air, before resting onto the ground gracefully. Screwed up pieces of paper were thrown about the place, masses of vibrant post-it notes splattering the room with colour. br / Sparks flew dangerously above him, the lights being ripped out, forcing him to leave and to not come back, when /spana blinking screen hidden between a pile of underwear caught his eye. br / Going against his better judgement, he tiptoed into the ransacked room. He nearly tripped over a wire hidden under the layer of paper and feathers, when he managed to latch onto the desk ahead of him. br / Finally managing to get to the laptop and not cause any attention towards himself, he lifted the lid higher. It had Violet down as its current user, but she was unconscious, so she must've just forgotten to log off. br / The more Banner read, the more his eyes widened in shock, in fascination, in dread, trepidation, he didn't know any more. One thing he did know for sure though, was that what Victoria, Violet or whatever, had drugged herself with was not natural. The syringe, judging by her reaction, was filled with a drug, a super-serum recreation not yet ready. That would explain the room's state. Someone must've tried to find / According to her notes, it was only meant to be taken once a day, right in the neck, once in the morning for three weeks. It was meant to be painless, quick and efficient. And she had just taken an overdose to the wrist, right where her veins were./p 


	3. Chapter 3

(Re-write: 20/09/14)

Bruce clicked the next tab. It was her diary. A digital diary, dedicated to her life, filled with her thoughts and every day, normal events. He was tempted to just skip over it. Almost.  
Except, the more Bruce indulged (guiltily, might I add), the more he realised it wasn't a diary. It was a log.  
The log was filled with an immense amount of photos, notes and even some footage. But it wasn't like a normal, typical teenager's account. It was sophisticated, organised (which he didn't expect after seeing her car first-hand), and very amusing at times, despite what it was talking about.  
The 'Problem', as she had dubbed it, was a disease that she had no idea how to control, or even how she had gotten it. Well, she didn't know it was a disease. She was born with it, but that didn't mean it was genetic. She came from healthy parents, who came from healthy parents, who had healthy children who all, in turn, became doctors.  
She was an exception.  
Bruce clicked on the next page and nearly choked on air. He was many things, but he was also a man. And right now, he was staring at her bare back.  
The video was titled: _Effects_.  
He looked up, realised they were still occupied with Violet, and clicked play, consequences be damned. The volume was already low, low enough to only reach Bruce's ears. He tried his hardest, he really, really did, to look neck up the whole time. But, hey, he was curious! Luckily, Violet had her hands on her upper chest, keeping her modesty more or less intact. Bruce didn't know whether he was relieved or disappointed. It didn't matter though, because at the end of the video he was more intrigued and shocked above everything else.  
In the video, she was in a room. Her room, he noticed. Everything was white. Her books, posters, post-it notes and pale blue walls being the only source of colour in the plain room. The window was closed, the lights were on.  
She was topless, and he saw a girl (Darcy) walk into the camera's view and position herself in front of Violet. The video version of Violet went on about her life-long predicament and how it worked. "Okay," video Violet breathed out. "Here goes nothing."  
He watched as she looked at Darcy. She wasn't moving, blinking or even breathing. She was absolutely still, unlike Darcy who was fidgeting about, like someone or something was making her feel uncomfortable. Like something had held onto her waist and she was trying to wiggle out of it.  
"Keep still, Darcy," Violet said, emotionless.  
Soon, Darcy managed to obey her friend's orders. The moment she locked eyes with the raven haired girl, she froze. Her body went pale, lost all its colour, and her figure stilled in place, hands limp and back rigid. She looked paralysed.  
He looked on in fascination, waiting. Only, he didn't know what exactly he was hoping to happen. For her to scream, for her to grow wings, for her to bare fangs and talons and attack Darcy? He didn't know, and he most certainly didn't expect Violet to turn blue and purple, and for her eyes to flash different colours, like the lights at a disco.  
Violet's tummy began to slowly give off a light, pale blue colour that soon darkened and swirled about into a more royal shade. And then it expanded, spread about and grew soft, wispy tendrils of purple that branched out across her skin. The swirls danced about, crawling along her long neck and seeped into her face, engraving dark lines and symbols onto her facial features. It made her seem _mutated _in a way.  
Violently yanking her head back, Violet broke their connection, and both girls gasped loudly, instantly taking in harsh lungful's of air.  
Violet shrieked and flung herself onto the floor with a thump, dragging the white sheets with her. In their mad rush for oxygen, she had accidentally taken her arms off of her chest and exposed herself (for a good few seconds) to the camera. Bruce averted his eyes 'immediately'.  
When Violet slowly got up (with the sheets tightly wrapped around her like a towel) to stop the recording, he saw that the lines had disappeared, along with the lights and the swirls. She was back to normal.  
Their laughter was the last thing he heard before the video ended and the replay button popped up.  
He scrunched up his eyebrows in thought, clicking open the previous tab after making sure to save it on his usb stick first to look over it. Bruce was a private man, and as much as he valued and respected another's privacy, something told him he had to look into it. Her reaction, all her notes, pointed to something along the lines of an inhumane lab experiment gone wrong. Or even a mutant without the knowledge to control its powers.  
_Her _powers, he reprimanded himself fiercely. _Her _not _it_. She was still a person, still a young woman. For so long, he had heard people call him 'it' and 'that' and 'thing' when they referred to him as the Hulk. They treated him like he was insignificant, like he wasn't there; he wasn't human. He promised himself he wouldn't cause an injustice like that to another.  
Bruce ran to the other room, intent on telling Jane Foster everything.


	4. Chapter 4

I could feel it spread—the numbness.  
It seeped through my veins, licked at my skin, tantalisingly cooling my blood. I felt it chilling my bones.  
My body was slowly trying to repair itself, correcting the DNA the serum had tried to alter; marginally. It was just a prototype, but any sort of transfusion to my blood, or change to my DNA could set my 'problem' off into some sort of 'survival frenzy'. I know; it's happened before.  
All was fine, I had convinced herself.  
Except, it wasn't.  
After the numbing, came the cold, cold sensations that literally froze my blood (for a second). Icicles began to form on my cheeks, in my nostrils. My faint breaths of air forming smoke and crystallizing.  
Next came the scolding hot. The piping hot fire that made me want to cry, to let it all out. The discomfort that followed, oh the pain was just so excruciatingly awful.  
It hurt.  
It hurt to think, it hurt to feel, it hurt everywhere. And I couldn't move, I couldn't prevent it from happening and I sure as hell couldn't tell my friends (that I knew were with me) to back off before they saw what my body might do. Before the problem let itself hurt them; kill them even.  
I almost died.  
If it wasn't for the fact that what almost killed me, saved me.  
The fire killed off what was left of the serum that the cold couldn't reduce, but had managed to cause damage to me in the process. It stopped my lungs from momentarily functioning, that almost ended with my heart bursting.  
Not only that, but I could feel my walls I had spent so long building up, falling. All those years trying to keep my pain-resistance in check, building up a barrier between my and the Problem, they crumbled.  
The Problem spiralling out of control, altering my DNA, replacing it with something else. It set off a spark inside of me, lighting a fire. It needed my body. I was its life force. They needed my half-human DNA and my unnatural blood. So it expanded, slowly duplicating and tripling itself, embedding itself into my muscles and veins. But this time, instead of letting it be submerging atop of my blood, keeping a paper-thin line between the two, it mixed.  
My blood would fuel their life. It would connect us; I would be the Problem. We were becoming one, and I couldn't stop it.  
And then it exploded, entering my brain. My every thought compromised, my memories corrupted. Every breath I took stopped, and the beating of my heart stilled.  
Theoretically, I died.

_Beep, beep, beeeeeeeeeeeep. _  
During my deep, breathless sleep, I could hear wails of "VIOLET! VI—!" penetrating through my blocked eardrums before a strange sensation of being held underwater overcame me.  
I focused on the sound, trying to remember who had said it.  
Jane.  
She had been the one to shout it. Her screams had been cut off abruptly, like someone had wrapped their arms around her waist and pulled. Pulled her away from something, or someone. Me.  
Pretty sure I was in a problem-induced coma, I waited patiently for something to happen. For a few minutes it was just silence, with a few garbled words here and there every so often.  
There was crying now, lots and lots of crying. Sniffing too. And then it stopped, replaced by more mangled words and phrases I couldn't quite catch, before clearer sounds of a person getting up could be heard, and quiet chatter; familiar chatter; flitted through my ears.  
_Sorry_, was a frequent word. It seemed to be a theme with these people- apologising.  
Little by little, my hearing was returning, followed by my other senses.  
Were those flowers? And _wax_?  
Words were given out, kind words, all addressed to me. It was then replaced by whispers, kisses, the soft feeling of petals being placed delicately onto my body. Warm touches to the face, my cheeks mostly. Someone held my hand, and I felt a soft pressure on my forehead.  
And then the warm feeling of love and body heat was extracted and I was left with the feeling of cold to wash over me. I could feel someone watching me, but made no move to do anything. And then a sentence was whispered into my ear that, quite literally, breathed the life back into me.  
"Wake up."  
And I did. Coughing and convulsing and spluttering back into the world of the living.  
I looked down at myself. I tried not to gag, I really did.  
White _everywhere_. I was wearing a simple white, flowing dress that came right down to my ankles and flared a bit at the end. It was sleeveless, elegant, and made me look and feel (uncomfortably) like an angel—which I certainly was not.  
This was weird. I could've sworn I had on a black hoodie, a band shirt and some jeans.  
My hands instinctively went straight for my hair like it usually does when I wake up in the mornings. It was combed, brushed, and pulled into a perfect messy bun of black and brown. And then I saw my arms and gulped. Well, I tried to gulp. My throat was dried up with disuse.  
My usually olive-skinned arms were now a pale and life-less grey/white.  
_Skin as white as snow_, I thought, quoting Snow White. It had been my favourite book as a child in the orphanage. Actually, that was a lie. It was the only book. Damn budget cuts.  
My face felt different too. Shallow and colder. The skin on my face was too thin, my cheekbones too prominent.  
Following the inspection of my body, I decided to check out my legs and feet next. I wriggled the toes in my shoes. Nope, nothing. Something was off there too. Well, for one, they were clad in white MJ's, and for the other, they felt too stiff. Like they hadn't seen movement in days. My legs were the same, joints squeaking a bit like they needed oil—just like the tin man.  
My hands made their way up to my throat, wrapping themselves around my neck. I finally began to realise just how parched I actually was. How long ago had I drank any liquids? Come to think of it, when was the last time I had a decent meal. How long was I passed out for? My tummy rumbled in time with my thoughts, embarrassingly. I felt like blushing, but nothing came. There was no usual heat running up my neck, no warm tint on my colourless cheeks.  
Looking up, I could see the high ceiling. The dark, wooden beams holding it up in place. A man stood by the side, looking down at me all dressed in black. He wore an eye patch on his eye, and a cocky grin that went with it.  
I sat up quickly, the violets falling down in a rippling wave as I lifted my upper body from the casket. There were gasps and some shrieks here and there, but the majority of the crowd looked on, awed and slightly frightened into silence.  
I turned my head to the other side, catching sight of a priest, eyes wide and unblinking. Unexpectedly, just as I had observed him, my eyes locked onto his own and my breath hitched. The world around me seemed to dim and spin in circles, and the usual pull of being drawn into somebody's memories tugged at my head, sparks flaring at my temples.  
My body became rigid and straightened out on its own accord, but this time something was significantly different. This time my stomach didn't burn, giving off that strange ray of light and heat as it normally did. Instead, my blood boiled, my eyes diluting. I could feel the sweat begin to pour down my forehead and my palms go moist.

_she was in his head now—the priest. She could see what he could see, but instead out of his eyes, out of her own. She could move. She was her own person, and she could move around, freely.  
Well, she thought, this is certainly different.  
The church was filled with a large group of people, all dressed in black. Some, aggravatingly, had violet ribbons or accessories adorning their hair, paying tribute to the girl they once knew. The man with the eye patch stood at the exit/entrance, arriving last. Even at funerals people tended to be fashionably late. His arms were folded, eye trained on the coffin at the front.  
It was cherry red, glossed over giving it a glazed and shining effect. Golden hinges and spirals decorated the coffin, giving the classically designed object a bit of magic and life. The girl found it ironic since it was designed for one purpose—to house a dead body. It didn't exactly need life.  
The top was open, exposing the body. The girl stepped forward in curiosity, her 'problem body' transparent, gliding through the guest's bodies without hesitation from either parties, bumps or disturbances. They didn't even shiver.  
The closer she got, the colder she became. Something told her she was not going to like what she was about to be presented with. At all. But she peered in anyway, not caring a bit, and she saw herself. She saw her lifeless body, grey skin, hair up, white dress, prominent cheekbones, sunken cheeks, hands clasped together, and she wanted to scream.  
Violet Faye Watson wanted to do nothing more but scream.  
Everyone stood from their seats and advanced on her, a single flower gripped tightly in each of their hands. Their sullen faces were either crying or unemotional, and they were all getting closer. Inching forward, dragging their feet towards her. They were zombies, emotional wrecks, half-dead.  
It was like a scene in a horror movie, Violet thought as she brought her hands to her face, cowering down, like her pathetic stance was enough to keep her alive; to protect her. It was fruitless because they got to her anyway, the first one, a man with greying hair in a black suit.  
He got to the target and tossed the violet into the casket, bowed his head and said a small prayer and a goodbye, before walking through Problem Violet with ease, not once harming her or even looking back at her and asking if she was real.  
This scene was familiar, Problem Violet thought. It sounds familiar anyway.  
She felt isolated, trapped in someone else's memories. The amount of people that had walked up to her and through her choked her so she ran. She ran to the altar, next to the priest, and looked down at herself.  
Each person did their own little thing to say a final goodbye. They all took turns, and at the end of their little goodbye tribute or speech or sign, they threw in a flower—a violet. Typical. She rolled her eyes—Darcy probably orchestrated it, gave them all that same damned flower when they entered just to annoy her.  
Thinking of Darcy, she appeared next, right after some burly guy whose name she always seemed to forget. Adam? Adrian? Arron?  
Yeah, that was it. Arron Small.  
Go on, laugh. Violet did.  
His surname was so contradictory, not even Arron seemed to care about it anymore.  
Anyway, back to Darcy. She was next. She took the longest, kissed her cheek and apologised through half-closed lids and loud sobbing, wiping a hankie across her nose from time to time. Problem Violet witnessed her best friend cry her heart out, guilt overwhelming her senses.  
"I'm here, Darcy. Please don't cry."  
But she did. She cried more and more, and the more she blamed herself for Violet's death, the more the tears came.  
Problem Violet wanted to cry herself, she tried to force herself to do it, to get some form of physical emotion out of her. But she couldn't it frustrated her to no end! The tears just wouldn't come out! She was close to screaming, when the next person to bid their farewells came next.  
Erik didn't bother to mask the emotion on his face. His lips quivered, his Adam's apple rose and dropped, and he just couldn't stop straightening his tie. He bent down to kiss his apprentice's cheek and set the rose down by her left ear (Darcy had placed her own rose on Violet's right one). This brought a smile on Problem Violet's face. He had remembered her favourite flower—a simple, red rose.  
"Why you?" she heard him mutter shakily to himself, before standing to the side for the next person. He dabbed his eyes with a tissue Darcy handed to him.  
Jane was last out of her three best friends; her family. Jane Foster was like a mother to her, rather than an older sister. She took her in from the streets where she ran from, she helped erase her identity, she gave her a whole new life; a restart. And this is what she was repaying her with. It was an injustice that Violet inflicted onto her surrogate mother with a feeling stronger than guilt and self-loathing that she could not explain. She hated herself for it.  
Her surrogate mother cried until the tears would no longer come, and even after that she made a strangled noise that sent a kick to Problem Violet's heart. She kissed Violet's eyes—her mystical, colour changing eyes that had draw Jane in all those years ago—and placed a simple violet rose into her clasped palms.  
She gave out a soft, choked laugh and tapped her hands. "I thought I'd piss you off for the last time before they, you know," she trailed off, sliding a shaking finger across the smooth edges of the coffin.  
Problem Violet nodded. She knew. She hated the colour of the flower, she hated the dark and being buried, but yeah. She knew.  
"I love you, I hope you know that," Jane whispered before Erik guided the three of them back to their seats, away from Violet's dead body.  
Problem Violet almost made herself blink. There was nothing else to see. She was dead, her friends were mourning, and the priest was trying to continue with the ceremony, and then she stopped.  
Movement on the far, east wall of the church caught her eye. The man—the eye patch one—he was moving. He was coming closer, closer to the coffin.  
Violet had no idea who this man was. He wasn't a relative- She had none. She was an orphan, turned experiment. He couldn't have been a colleague, nor could he have been an old friend, or one of the doctors from her childhood. So who the heck was he?  
He leaned in close and whispered that same sentence into her ear.  
"Wake up." _

I blinked and was in the church, the priest was passed out on the floor. I was feeling extremely light-headed. I let out a gasp, choking on air. The tears had finally managed to surface, and fat drops were streaming down my face as I tried her hardest to get my breathing to level and heart beat to steady. I looked up again.  
That very same man from the Memory was looking at me, his one eye never wavering from my forehead boring holes into my head. The black as night coat rippled by his ankles as a wave of people made their way to check on the priest. His stance was confident and he gave off an air of superiority that made you feel threatened. Something about him screamed _dangerous. _So why was he here? What the hell was he doing at a dead girl's funeral?  
_But you aren't dead. You're very much alive. That's why he's here. You are dangerous. _  
The crowd had gone to help the priest, many of them whipping out their phones to call an ambulance. I was left untouched, scarred by the looks of fright I received. This was all too Zombie-Fright-Night to be real.  
All but four remained where they were: Darcy Lewis, Erik Selvig, Jane Foster and eye patch man.  
"Who… are you?" I said through strangled breaths. My voice was rough and grated because of disuse.  
"I'm Nick Fury, and I would like to offer you a choice."


	5. Chapter 5

**_Three new chapters in one day? *GASP* I know!_**

**_I've re-written/ corrected most or all the previous chapters so it flows more with the story plot, so go re read and check them out if you want to. I've changed it to fit with the Avengers plot, but once that's done I'll finally be able to incorporate my own plot. _**

**_Yes, I know Erik was corrupted by Loki too, and he will be, but not for a while just so that it fits in with this story's timeline. If you have any questions, jut comment and I promise I'll answer. x_**

(Posted: 21/09/14)

"A choice?" I started shocked at his peculiar sentence, but he laid a big, calloused hand onto my arm to restrain me. He nodded and helped me out of my would-be coffin when he realised I wasn't going to escape. "What do you propose?"

He turned away and walked off, expecting me to follow him. I did. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Erik, Darcy and Jane shaking out of their stupors and trailing behind us too. Like moths to a light. No one had noticed our exit.

The light from the sun was blinding and I had to blink away the harsh, offending light. To the side, cars zoomed by not noticing or ignoring the once-dead girl walk out of the church. The gravel was warm under the thin layer of her soles, and the smell of freshly cut grass entered my nostrils. A wave of nostalgia hit me like a ton of bricks, and for a second a green, grassy field flashed before my eyes before disappearing as fast as it came.

The dark-skinned man came to a stop beside a black official-looking car, and gestured for me to go in. The tinted windows and american flags posted on both sides of the hood did nothing to settle my uneasiness. I got in anyway.

Six leather seats (three facing a black screen with a symbol of an eagle, where I guessed was where the driver was sitting behind, and the other three facing in towards us) greeted my entrance, and I sat to the closest to the door opposite. It was closed. Damn.

Eye-patch man sat adjacent to me, and folded his arms across his chest. Stupidly, I did the same trying to look more intimidating. He just smirked at me. Double damn.

We sat in silence for a few moments, both trying to analyse the other, figuring out who would try what first.

He was first. "Your friends are outside."

"I noticed. Can they come in?" I said, my voice more bored rather than the professional, flat business-like tone he had.

"I have something I would like to discuss with you first. Privately," he added. At that exact moment, the tell-tale click of an opened lock sounded, and a man wearing a crisp, light blue suit and tie entered.

His hair was slightly windswept, and his eyes covered with dark glasses. I saw Fury's jaw tighten in an attempt to stop himself from yelling. The unnamed man sat down (leaving the seat between himself and Fury unoccupied) and grinned. I liked him instantly. He just seemed... fun. "Tony Stark."

"America's very own Tin Man, yes, you I've heard of," I said, referring back to the news reports and magazine pages that were dedicated wholly to the man of metal and arrogance himself. "Dr Watson." I held up a hand when I saw his mouth begin to move. "Please, no Sherlock jokes. I've heard them all."

"Stark, what the hell do you think you're doing here?" Fury demanded.

"Bruce was worried about 'ole _Victoria _here. Asked me to drop off her car, only for me to find her licence in the compartment along with her keys. See, there's two reasons a girl lies to a guy when they first meet. One, it's because they don't trust them, and two, they want to get into his pants," he said philosophically. I blushed. "You look young, 'bout early twenties. Anyway, getting off track. What I mean is that you dying and coming back to life is awesome, and I'm also a fan on how you spew out magical light from your body and invade people's privacy. Pretty cool," he commented, giving me a huge, cheeky grin.

"Erm... Thanks."

"Funny, Bruce had a similar reaction."

"Stark, get out," Fury ordered.

"_Please_, tell me your furious," he begged.

Fury regarded him with a look of loathing before turning back to me. "I'd like you to explain yourlittle party trick."

Rule one when it came to my problem, was to never use it on a civilian or someone part of the force, unless feeling threatened. I felt threatened. Cautiously, I casually let my eyes drift down from his hairline to his eyes, only to find he had whipped out a pair of sunglasses without me noticing.

I gave him a fake-smile only a teenager could master, and asked: "What makes you think _I_ had anything to do with it? Probably a trick of the light. I sleep like the dead, Selvig tends to say. Must've thought I had actually died that time."

He didn't even to raise a brow at her bad attempt at a lie. Tony on the other hand just snorted. "You aren't fooling anyone. I've seen the footage." At this, my eyes narrowed.

Those were private tapes, no one but Darcy knew about them. Despite all her eccentric-ness, she would never betray me like that. "Dr Banner told me about the super serum you were trying to recreate. Is that what it does, give you immortality?" Fury questioned.

The name sparked a small memory, but I couldn't quite remember where I had heard that name before. "Where did you get those tapes?"

"Answer my questions first."

"You know, a man usually takes the girl out on a date before he demands something," I teased, though there was no humour in my voice and my eyes were cold. The tension didn't lessen with my words.

"This is a matter of national security."

"I'm not a problem," I sneered.

_Yes you are. It's in your blood stream. You are a problem; you're _the _Problem, _the little voice inside my head corrected.

I gave it the finger.

Fury's guarded eyes made me uncomfortable. Why have a power, when they could be easily stunted with something as casual as sunglasses? It made me feel useless, vulnerable. Tony was the same. I swear, does that man ever go anywhere _without _wearing those blasted things?

"How long are you willing to believe that lie?"

How long _was _I going to believe it? For so long I had lived knowing I was different. Since I could remember, my childhood was filled with men and women in white garments and needles, and neon coloured liquids in phials. I could remember the screaming, and the experiments. I could remember the green fields where we were forced to train. I can still picture the empty halls, and the black uniforms, and the smell of cinnamon that wafted out from the kitchen doors on a Saturday evening for all the 'good' boys and girls. I could still see the stained blotches of blood on that very same uniform that they inflicted...

"As long as it takes," I finally answered, my wavering voice going unnoticed. "If that offer involves coming with you, my answer is no, sir."

"I thought you might say that."

"Are you going to try and stop me?" I challenged, eyes flicking between him and Tony.

"Nope." Tony answered for him. He tapped the side of his seat and a hidden compartment hissed open, a bottle of copper liquid and a crystal-like glass encased in it. He poured out a glass and offered me one. When I declined, he shrugged and took a sip. I waited patiently for him to finish before he continued. "I was actually hoping you would change your mind."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because we have information. On the Red Room."

My blood chilled for the second time today. I hadn't mentioned my past to anyone, not even Jane, and suddenly out of nowhere, a billionaire, and a government spy show up and tell me they have information on the one place I've tried my whole life to forget. Suspicious much? "Who do you work for?"

"Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division," Fury replied smoothly.

"SHIELD," I near-spat, remembering our encounter in New Mexico and even before that. "Oh yeah, I remember you guys. You still owe me my phone... and watch."

"We're working on it, Miss Carter."

I glared openly this time, attempting to move his glasses with my mind to no avail. "Stop. Just stop it. You sound like the doctors." My head began to ache. "I go by Watson now, it would be good for you to realise that."

Fury sighed heavily, and for once, I realised Tony was uncharacteristically silent. He was observing our interaction, a slightly baffled look gracing his features.

"You should notify Coulson, before he finds out from someone else."

"Coulson deserves to know nothing," I hissed. That man, for all I cared, deserved nothing from me. For all he had done- _not do_ more like.

"And Steve?" he countered, smirking when I tensed.

"Steve is dead. Has been for years."

"Mr Rogers is alive, and we need you to come in."

"Why me? Couldn't you just bother some other person?"

"It's Loki." That piqued my interest. Why didn't he start with that first?

"The Norse god?"

As a little girl, to pass the time I would spend time in the library. Unfortunately, the only section in the library that was always unoccupied, was the mythology section. No one was interested in it so it made the perfect place for seclusion whenever I needed a place to be alone for a while.

Greek and Norse mythology interested me the most. I don't really know what drew me in in the first place. Maybe it was the cruel, 'for all eternity', punishments, their language, or even just the fact that it was the only source of entertainment I had, but I guess the light-reading paid off. Thor was a fine example of that.

He nodded in confirmation. Tony sipped at his drink, silently.

"He tried to attack civilians in Stuttgart, Germany."

"And you stopped him?" A nod. "Then why do you need me?"

Fury pulled a manilla file out of his jacket and handed it to me. I cautiously opened it after giving Fury a 'seriously?' look.

The first page was of one Clinton Barton. He had sandy blonde hair, a smirk on his face, and sunglasses covering his eyes. What was it with government agents covering their eyes? Was it a procedure? Did they have special spy lessons on when and where to wear them? Honestly, I was getting slightly peeved off about it.

"Clint Barton, code name Hawkeye. Corrupted. Loki got to him first," Fury explained. "And some other SHIELD agents."

"Does this have something to do with the Tesseract? Which I totally know nothing about..." I ended, bashfully.

After Thor had gone back to Asgard, a government agent had come into contact with him. Erik never said who it was, but he mentioned that the man had offered him a job involving a cube that they called the Tesseract. Erik was always one for a challenge, but after Thor and destruction that came with him, he realised and I quote that he 'wanted to spend more time with his family', so he kindly declined. He never saw the government agent again.

Of course, that didn't stop me from hacking said secret government's files. Going on a whim, I started with SHIELD first, remembering what Jane told me about their encounter once I had gone back to an empty lab and a sulking team after a coffee run.

I only managed to get passed the firewalls when my laptop went bat shit crazy and started to freeze then blow up. That was my warning. I had to get new laptop after that, but luckily I had a backup (and a backup for those backups).

"So _you_ were the one who hacked into SHIELD. I thought it was Stark."

"Hey!"

When I turned to the next page, a familiar face is what greeted me. Robert Brunner, or Robert Bruce Banner, was also part of this exclusive group Fury was (I'm guessing) putting together, or has already put together. "So this is Banner," I muttered to myself. I knew he sounded familiar. "So he is the Hulk- that would explain the gamma radiation Erik was talking about."

"He and Stark are meant to be locating the Tesseract." Fury directed a glare to said man. "Skip to the last page- that's your proof."

I did as he said, flipping to the last page. Steve Rogers smiled back at me, donned in his usual plaid shirt and Khaki trousers. "So he's really alive?" Fury nodded once. "And if I go, what will I be doing?"

Tony refilled his glass. "You'll be with Loki. We need all the information we can get, and you're our best bet. Think you can get into the maniac's mind?"

I smiled, a sadistic glee taking over me. How many times would anyone be able to say they met _two_ Norse gods?

"With pleasure."


	6. Chapter 6

**_This chapter might be confusing, with the Steve and Violet relationship and all, but I promise you that this is a Bruce/Violet fic. I'm still trying to get a feel for this story, so bare with me. I know Bruce may seem a bit OOC, but that's partly because he doesn't exactly trust Violet yet, _****and ****_he thought she was dead. If you have any questions (since I changed a few things in the previous chapters) then comment and I promise to answer :)_**

* * *

"See? Told you you'd change your mind," Stark remarked.

Fury ignored the billionaire. "I'll have an agent debrief you and answer all your questions once you arrive on the Helicarrier." He took an empty glass, filled it with scotch and drained it dry before unlocking the door with a small click. "You're free to go- Not you, Stark." Tony grumbled a curse word and allowed himself to be pulled back onto his seat by the spy of all spies.

"Go. Agent Coulson will be with you shortly. I suggest you start packing your things. Dr. Selvig's research in particular should help us find the tesseract. We'll be seeing you very soon, Miss Watson."

With a curt nod in each man's direction, I ducked my head and exited the car. A sharp shot of the sun's rays targeted my weak eyes, momentarily blinding me. By the time I had blinked the obnoxious light away and parted my lips to say something else, the car was gone.

"I'll see you there then, I guess."

"We aren't going."

The rucksack I had been hauling previously now felt ten tons heavier. It was as if someone had been sneaking rocks into it behind my back until it got too heavy for me to not notice. It nearly slipped.

"What? Why? Did I do something wrong?" I fired in rapid succession.

Dr Selvig was always one to stay stray from trouble, never wanting to be caught in the middle of a fight or be verbally abused. That's partly he reason why he tried to stay away from the alcohol, it always ended up getting him into some sort of problem. It's also the reason why he never accepted the invite to work on the tesseract in the first place.

"S.H.I.E.L.D isn't safe," he stated simply.

"They're a _secret government agency,"_ I stressed_._ "They saved those Germans from Loki, and-"

"He managed to kill over fifty people before S.H.I.E.L.D had to step in. _Loki _is in that flying ship they're on-"

"-The helicarrier-" I corrected.

"-and has probably already formed a plan of escape. It isn't safe there, Violet, it's almost as dangerous as staying here when he attacks," he voiced.

The aforementioned rucksack lay limply at my feet like a deflated red balloon. I swiped it off the floor and, ripping open the zips, I stomped over to my bedroom intent on packing my things whether he liked it or not. "That's why I- _we _have to go, Erik. If I can reach his mind, I may be able to get him to see what he's doing; _actually _see. I mean, from what Stark told me-"

I had stopped the minute I opened the door to my room. Piles and piles of research and paper were scattered across the floor, my carpet no longer visible. My desk was torn in half and flung to the side, whilst my bed was in a similar position.

The wooden wardrobe had lost one of its doors and was lying flat on its back, and most importantly, my filing cabinet (that I usually kept locked) had been roughly opened and rummaged through, all my important research sprawled everywhere.

The bag slipped from my fingers and I tripped my way over to the fallen wardrobe, desperately clawing through the never ending pile of useless fabric. Stinging tears sprang to my eyes the further down I went, and I barely registered the shocked gasp and retreat of footsteps until I felt a hand clamp over my shoulder.

A blurred version of Jane's scowling face entered my vision as I looked behind my shoulder.

"W-what happened? Who did this?" I demanded, still clawing at the clothing.

With the help of Selvig, the duo pulled my back onto my feet and away from the room, a piece of blue cloth clamped between my fingers. Darcy was waiting by the door, a look of mild confusion crossing her face. I don't quite remember how I ended up slumped on the sofa and being handed a cup of hot chocolate (that was now ice cold and untouched), but that's the scene Agent Coulson walked into an hour later. Judging by the eerily calm look on his face, nothing really fazed the agent any more. He'd seen to much.

Instead of questioning what had happened, he asked: "Are you ready to go?"

Erik stood from his crouched position in front of me, and made his way towards the agent to have a private conversation. I looked at the general direction in front of me, glassy eyed. Erik was probably going to give him the 'We aren't going, it's too dangerous' speech, so I didn't think it would be beneficial for me to tune into it. I did, however, feel their gazes on my back a few seconds later, and it didn't really surprise me when Erik announced we were to be transported to S.H.I.E.L.D's Helicarrier a few moments later. Coulson probably worked his manipulation on him too.

I stood up, giving the agent a cool look. "Give me a minute. I need to check something."

* * *

The hiss of the airtight door went unnoticed as the two scientists in front of us 'geeked out'. I looked at the personnel that had escorted Darcy and I here, and he left with a quick nod in our direction. We stood by the door for a while, tuning into their conversation every once in a while. My thoughts were still clouded with all that had happened earlier, still slightly pissed at what I had found.

I quickly got bored and picked up the closest tablet to us and nearly burst out laughing. I chanced a look at the two scientist, but they seemed pretty engrossed in the sound of their own voices.

"If we bypass their mainframe and direct a reroute to the Homer cluster, we can clock this around six hundred teraflops."

I motioned for Darcy, and we held back giggles as we watched a mini Tony Stark scamper across the screen, drunk and half naked with his Iron Man helmet on singing a tragically ear-splitting version of Fall Out Boy's Centuries.

_Yes_, _Tony_, _the whole world will remember you for centuries... the minute Darcy posts this online._

Beneath the video clip, was a small message about 'getting home alive or have this sent to Fury', and was signed off by one Pepper Potts. I didn't know who Pepper Potts was, but I liked her instantly.

"All I packed was a tooth brush," I heard Banner joke.

"I sincerely hope you also packed my laptop, Doctor. Shame if you didn't. I'd have to kill you," I commented offhandedly, pretending not to notice the meek and slightly-concerned expression that lined the doctor's face as I stared at the tablet.

"Who _is _Pepper Potts? Cause I think I've found a new best friend." I received a jab to the side for that. "Only joking, Darcy. Sheesh."

"Hey, Watson! Who's this?" Stark greeted enthusiastically and pointed at Darcy.

Darcy took out one earpiece and grinned at the billionaire. "Darcy Lewis. You must be Tony Stark."

"The one and only. Hey is that my tablet?"

"You can't be here."

I groaned and fixed him with one of the steeliest glares I could. "Look, Banner, don't give me the 'Dangers of S.H.I.E.L.D' crap- Erik already voiced his opinion back in New Mexico. I'm here because you failed to convince Erik to come here, stole my personal laptop, and because Stark personally black-mailed me into being here," I explained. "So you can blame him."

Banner redirected his glare towards Stark. "So that's where you went off to?"

Tony went to stand by the Doctor, hands suspiciously behind his back. "Yep. Calm down, Banner. It's not like I asked her to sign a death warrant."

"No, but knowing you, you'd do the next best thing."

We turned sharply towards the voice by the door.

In truth, I didn't expect to meet any of the Avengers so early into our arrival. Then again, I didn't expect to die, wake up a few days later and then get recruited by the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D himself. So, yes, in retrospect I guess I should've seen reuniting with Steve inevitable, I had read the file. Though, seeing the focused look on the Captain's face, he hadn't even noticed me yet. Funny, he was usually so attentative. Maybe the ice got to him.

"Is everything a joke to you?" The blonde looked outrageously at Stark.

I didn't get what he meant by that, but once I heard the clattering of a heavy metal device, I soon realised what had gotten Steve so worked up. Tony Stark, in the typical Tony Stark way, had tried to provoke the Other Guy out with a miniature electrical prod. Only Steve managed to stop him.

Tony shrugged carelessly. "Funny things are."

"Threatening the safety of everyone on this ship isn't funny." He paused and his features softened like he had just realised what he had said. He was quick to apologise to the doctor.

"Actually, maybe letting off some steam is exactly what the Hulk needs," I chipped in, unknowingly speaking from experience. "Just a thought, Doc."

Sometimes, the Problem just _needed _to be used. It can't be contained, no, but it can be helpful in some situations. And sometimes keeping it in confined makes it crave the outside world till I have no choice but to let it out. And by then it would be too far gone to trust me.

Steve made a near-silent choking noise at the back of his throat as he caught sight of me by the counter with Darcy. Tony raised a questioning eyebrow at the soldier, wondering what had got him so flustered.

"Erm... Excuse me ma'am, but are you by any chance related to a-"

I gave him a quick salute. "Hey Steve. Long time no see." I gave him one of my warmest smiles, ones I only saved for him, and he blushed. Captain freaking America _blushed_.

Tony and Bruce gave each other that _look_. That look that clued me in on what they were thinking without needing to peek into their thoughts myself. Gosh, _Darcy and I_ knew that look too well. We shared it more than once during Thor's stay.

"But how's that possible?" He moved closer to me, hands by his side just itching to touch me, to see if I was real. But like the gentleman he was, he kept to himself. I didn't need to look into his eyes to see that twinge of hurt. "You were in the 107th infantry regiment, Victoria, I remember... Bucky he... he... _why are you here_?"

As if mentioning the 107th infantry regiment and Bucky Barnes in the same sentence was insignificant, the two scientist questioned the name change.

"It is," I answered, never straying my eyes away from the man in front of me. "But it's also Victoria. I like to change it up every few decades. And I'm here because Fury demanded I find out more information about the Tesseract before I get it out of Loki- if it doesn't work out. A back up per se."I directed that to Steve.

"Every few decades?" Bruce enquired, leaving his post by the monitor to get a closer look at me, as if he hadn't seen me properly before until now.

I just rolled my multicoloured eyes, finally looking at him. "Is that your subtle way of asking me how old I am, Doctor Banner? Didn't your mum ever tell you not to ask a woman their age?"

Uncharacteristically, Bruce answered with a blunt, "She died," which caused us all to stiffen, all for various, personal reasons. An awkward silence fell upon us, although Tony looked quite proud for his friend. I'll never understand that man, honestly.

"I'm not going to say _I'm sorry_, you're probably sick of hearing that stupid, pointless phrase for so long. So instead, I'm gonna say I know how it feels. Because I do, and it's probably the only thing we'll ever have in common," I said, looking at his dead in the eyes.

Somehow, the Problem didn't cause any trouble, actually feeling soothed by not only Bruce's, but also the Hulk's, presence. Maybe the guy wasn't so bad.

"So, I know how it feels." I gave him a genuine smile, then clapped my hands together loudly, not all that comfortable with long periods of silence unless I was going to sleep.

"Now can someone explain to me why Fury has called us and why now? Why not before? What isn't he telling us? What is Fury _hiding_? Because I sure as hell know that Fury didn't _not _know about me until I caused all that trouble in church- he's too in the loop to miss something like me out," I rambled, determinedly flicking through the files on the monitor, encrypting and decrypting files as I went through. Something I was meant to be doing ages ago.

I felt a presence behind me, but ignored it thinking it was probably Darcy trying to show me the amount of views the video clip had received in the last hour or so since she anonymously posted it. I probably should've noticed that she had also left through the back entrance the moment Steve and I had started to converse. It explained why it was so quiet anyway.

"You think Fury's hiding something?" Steve asked, watching avidly as I flicked some useless piece of information into the small rubbish bin icon. I jumped slightly at the interruption.

"He's a spy. Captain, he's _the _spy. His secrets have secrets," Tony answered for me. He then pointed sharply at a now silent and contemplative Banner. "It's bugging him too, isn't it?"

Bruce lifted his head slowly coming out of his reverie, hands fiddling with something I couldn't quite see from where I was. "Uh... I just want to finish my work here and..." he stumbled over his words, still not quite in the room (mentally) yet.

"Doctor?" Steve said.

A pregnant silence, then: "'A warm light for all mankind'- Loki's jab at Fury about the cube," he explained to me as a side note since I wasn't there to hear what the power-craving, just damn bat-shit crazy, god had to say. "Well, I think that was meant for you." He pointed at Tony.

"Stark Tower?" I guessed, hearing about it in the news recently.

It was a massive building, towering over the cotton-like clouds with about one-hundred floors, and about as many rooms to fit the whole of New York's population with at least three more beds to spare.

Apparently Steve had heard about it too. "That big ugly-" I cut him a reprimanding look. "-building in New York?"

"It's powered by Stark Reactors, self-sustaining energy source. That building will run itself for what, a year?" Bruce's praise went unnoticed, and it did nothing but inflate Stark's ego more.

"That's just the prototype," Stark boasted. "I'm kind of the only name in clean energy right now." He gave the doctor a smile that unnerved me. "You know, you should come by sometime. Top ten floors, all R&D. You'd love it, it's candy land."

The doctor coughed awkwardly, remembering something he wished he didn't. "Thanks, but last time I was in New York I kinda broke... Harlem."

"Sorry, but you were saying?" I cut in, wanting to brake up their little bromance scene for now and get to the matter at hand.

Banner meekly fiddled with his little piece of equipment. "So, why didn't S.H.I.E.L.D bring him in on the Tesseract project? I mean, what are they doing in the energy business in the first place?"

Tony merely shrugged. "I should probably look into that once my decryption programmer finishes breaking into all of S.H.I.E.L.D's secure photos." He ate a blueberry. Wait, where did he get that packet from?

"I'm sorry, did you say...?" Steve trailed off, dreading the answer.

"Jarvis has been running it since I hit the bridge," he admitted. "In a few hours we'll know every dirty secret S.H.I.E.L.D has ever tried to hide." He held out the bag towards the super soldier innocently. "Blueberry?"

I cut into what Steve was about to say with a loud moan. "Are you serious? I did the same thing! Damn you, Stark."

"You have a hacking implant placed somewhere here too?" Tony's eyes lit up with a childish glee.

"Nope."

His face dropped. "Oh."

"I hacked into your own hacking implant device you placed under Fury's desk, and exchanged all the files you received with a dancing cat, and all the files Jarvis had extracted, into my phone," I admitted with a cocky grin, holding out a slick, almost glass-like material, revelling at the complete and utter disbelief on Stark's face. "I'm guessing not many are able to outwit you when it comes to Tech, Stark, especially not an older woman. Sorry bout that, I've had a lot of time to practice."

"No phone has enough storage to hold that much information."

"Well then I guess it's lucky that _I_ made my phone, and not some other company, yeah?"

"Jarvis would've caught onto the hack," he insisted.

"Have you tried to contact Jarvis since you've planted that thing? You should try that." I yawned dramatically. "Anyway, I'm off to bed, jet lag and all. See you later, boys."


	7. Chapter 7

_**This is overdue, I know, sorry about that. In this chapter, Violet finally gets to have a talk with Loki! Some more of her past is revealed, though not explained yet. Comment if you have any ideas on what is really going on with Vi.**_

_****__**Also, It's half term so I'm hoping to get some more chapters typed up and posted soon. It's Halloween in three days! Anyone excited? What is everybody going as?**_

* * *

Also, It's half term so I'm hoping to get some more chapters typed up and posted soon. It's Halloween in three days! Anyone excited? What is everybody going as?

Not looking behind me, I made sure to make it seem like I was heading to my room. Course, seeing the Captain again after so long plagued my thoughts and sense of direction, as I consciously twisted and turned my way to a door I had been trying to avoid since arrival. The intimidating metal door that was keeping a barrier between a monster and I, towered over me, enticing me yet making me want to run at the same time.

I blinked once, twice, before shaking my head vigorously in an effort to fling the idea of crossing the barrier that was keeping the sane from the insane apart.

Not today. I wasn't ready for this today.

I hadn't known Fury for long, but despite his hard exterior and no-nonsense tone, he was surprisingly easy to read. The little twitch of his eye (that was obvious even with his sunglasses on) when he was irritated. How the left side of his mouth would curl in dissatisfaction or if he was brought with bad news. The way he would sneer privately to himself when he thought no one was looking, when Stark would make an unannounced appearance, or when someone would comment on his actions. I knew that Fury would do anything for his country, in this life and the next. So yes, a corridor located in this exact place (which I would've thought that the Director, knowing his paranoid self, would have demanded to be teaming with specially trained guards and qualified agents) being empty, scared the shit out of me.

So either something was wrong, or something was going down and Fury needed the guards as far away from that area as possible. Either way, I made sure to not stick around long enough to find out.

Naturally, the door hissed open anyway. Smoke emitted from the air tight door and swirled around me like the dry smoke they would always use in that club Darcy always used to sneak out at night to play some of her crazy mixes, though not as choking as that was. I walked through. I didn't need to look around to see if anyone was there; no one would be willing to stand guard in this close proximity to the mad Norse god of lies. Plus, the security camera's and motion sensors would just alert Fury if the prisoner attempted to make any sudden movements. Even so, that didn't explain why or how they had opened without an imputed code and not set off the alarms. I froze. Unless...

Unless it was opened from the inside.

"It's quite stupid, don't you think, to stand with your mouth agape at the entrance." The harsh yet soothing voice brought me back to my senses and i picked my jaw up from the ground.

"Yes. Quite." My reply was short and curt. I didn't have the time for this, nor the patience or emotional hold. I had just died not seventy-two hours ago if my maths was correct. I was tired and with all these old faces randomly popping up here and there, I was surprised I hadn't forced myself to take those pills Dr Smith prescribed me to get rid of the hallucinations. Because I was sure that's what they were. Figments of my imagination. I wish.

"I will admit, though don't tell your precious Thor, that I didn't expect to find you here as well of all places..."

"I was in New Mexico," I pointed out.

"Yet you failed to say hello when I visited my dear brother."

"He was locked in a holding cell."

"Insignificant,"he brushed off.

Loki sat on his thrown of a stiff metal bed. His clothes had been replaced with SHIELD prisoner drab, and his hair was longer than what I had last seen him with and what he was used to. He did say a bet was a bet. Never let it be said that the god of lies wasn't a... Liar... Damn. Gotta work on that line. Long story short, we had a bet, I won, Loki now had long hair.

"It's a small world."

"We are on a different planet, are we not?" he quipped, his face a mask and his usually bright green eyes were now blue, lifeless and dull though that mischievous spark never left.

"What happened to you?" I whispered.

A lifetime ago, I had met Loki during my travels. At first we despised each other, but formed a bond that would be our lifeline when we realised both of us were in the same sort of trouble. It didn't last long before one of us cut the line and sent the other reeling back into the poisonous webs of Hydra.

"I see you are still unchanged." he avoided the question.

"Still causing more trouble than fixing it. "I joked.

A smirk finally tugged at his lips. That infuriating smirk that used to have me paling in its presence no longer bothered me.

"What happened to you, Loki?" I repeated.

The Norse god stood up and slowly started to pace about his little accommodation, his body tense and frigid. He avoided any eye contact. "Have you ever regretted something you've done and not done anything about it?"

His question was rhetorical but I couldn't help but answer with a silent, "all the time," and let him begin his rant. He would always start his rants with a question after all.

"My predicament isn't pretty, Watson. After you left me for Hydra's hands..."

Regret was my first strong emotion that overcame me. Anger was the next. I was angry for his bringing it up. All my choices had been chosen for a reason, and my leaving him all those years ago was a mistake, yes, I knew that, but it had to be done. What was at stake was more important than a man I had only known for two months, and still didn't know anything about him but his name.

"Do not try to guilt me, Loki," I warned testily.

"After you left me with Hydra," he continued as if he hadn't heard me, "I found a... Glitch it the..." he made flamboyant hand gestures to try and represent what he was trying to explain. "...The universe that had been keeping our planets aligned and safe from crashing into each other."

My arms folded over my chest, and I frowned. Why did I sense a _but _coming?

"But I also found something even more fascinating." The god paused for what I assumed was for a dramatic effect, but continued on lamely when he realised I held no interest. "The Chitauri."

"The _what_?" My confused expression must've been hilarious because he cracked a full on toothy-grin. He laughed manically, as if my question was something so hysterical it got his sides aching and eyes glistening with mirth.

"And then they _welcomed me_," he laughed, "with opened arms; a prodigal son. They gave me a staff; a weapon of infinite power. They gave me an army to rule this pathetic world my brother loves... And all for a cube... a-a... _portal _to this world."

During his little speech, I found myself unconsciously edging towards he exit. Something in his tone felt off. Loki had been barely stable when we first met, but now he was hysterical. His laughter bounced raucously off the steel walls and amplified, and I truly wondered what had happened to him that had made him so mentally unstable since I had last seen him. I suspected Hydra, but a nagging feeling at the back of my brain told me otherwise. Something told me there was truth to the nonsense he was spewing out on me.

"And a partner," he finished. When I turned, his eyes were set on me and the warm sincerity set me on edge. "After _Hydra_, you showed me what you were really capable of. You are bitter, menacing, _powerful_, yet so passionate and compassionate. I can sense it, and you... Oh, I'm positive you will be a great asset." He had been edging closer to the glass than what I was comfortable with, and he was still going. It was as if he was about to attempt to walk through it, like a magician I had seen on TV do once. **_(Cyber cookie for anyone who can name who I'm talking about)_**

"No, Loki." I tried to leave, but I couldn't. It was as if the soles of my shoes had melted into the floor and solidified. Our eyes connected, but nothing happened. I was faced with a blue shield, barricading me from his mind. It was beautiful and enchanting, capturing your thoughts with its brilliant colour and intricate designs. But it wasn't just that. It was the voices that came with it. The bloody whispers of freedom and life's greatest lies. It was the promise of greatness and power. It was the answer to my problem.

I yanked my eyes away forcefully, gasping, and grabbed desperately onto the wall behind me for support. My eyes were being pricked by invisible pins, my lungs were ablaze and I could feel my legs about to give in. I knew I shouldn't have done that.

"You witnessed... Power... Freedom of... Your powers..." Loki's voice drifted into my ears but I couldn't process anything he was saying. My ears were too busy ringing painfully.

"You're crazy," I gulped once my vision was no longer blurred, "if you think I would ever help you."

Loki pressed an arm onto the glass and rested his forehead onto it, observing me through the thick glass in such a feral way it had me squirming. "We'll see."


End file.
